


The Councillor's New Clothes

by Gilli_ann



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Bathing/Washing, Clothing, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur plots a change to his manservant's appearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Councillor's New Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This version of the legendary characters belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I make no profit and intend no disrespect nor copyright infringement.
> 
> This story is authorised for AO3 only. It is not to be copied or used elsewhere without my explicit written permission.

## The Councillor's New Clothes

Merlin rolled over and squinted in the morning light, stretching languidly. The sun fell brightly in through the high windows, but was filtered through the heavy crimson bed-hangings to bathe the bed in a soothing, rosy glow that fit his drowsy mood to perfection.

He felt incredibly good, but not exactly rested. Completely blissed-out, sated and relaxed to the marrow of his bones, but also... rather achy, here and there. Muscles protesting, arse burning. His lips pulled up in a contented and slightly overwhelmed smile as his eyes fell shut again, lids all too heavy, vision still hazy from what had to be dreams. Fantastic dreams.

He realized that his mouth felt strange too. Swollen and bruised. Clearly, this was what setting a new record in intense snogging would do to a man's lips.

He blinked. Huh. Oh.

Now that consciousness was slowly returning, memories of the night before suffused his mind and his entire being.

Arthur and he had to have set a new record in more than just kissing last night. The king had been downright insatiable, insisting on unravelling Merlin to the point of pitiful pleading and incoherent wailing, again and again. Insisting on for once being the one to serve and to please and to pleasure, not the other way around. How many times had he made Merlin come, exactly, and in how many ways?

It was all a bit of a dazed blur after the second time. Merlin had lost count. Arthur had such _stamina!_

But it had been glorious, he recalled that much. He arched with the memory and grinned in sudden jubilation.

Oh, he wanted to shout it to the world! What a night!

He stretched once more, and rolled around to nuzzle the lumpy, well-used pillow. The blankets and linens were rumpled and stained beyond recognition. A certain distinct.... _stench_ hovered over the bed. He wrinkled his nose and sighed. It would be his task to somehow have all of it cleaned. But he could not find it in himself to care just now. A little bit of judiciously applied magic would do the trick.

It had been worth it. Ye gods, so well worth it!

Mmm-mmm. He blushed a little, remembering Arthur's full and eager lips stretched around his cock, the mischievous gleam in the heated glances the king kept casting upwards as he did unimaginably delicious and talented things with his tongue. Sinking back to revel in those deliciously debauched sensations and impressions for a moment, Merlin sighed with the deepest pleasure. Oh yes. _Yes-yes yes!_

Drawing a deep breath, Merlin rolled back over, sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Time to get going, high time to start another day.

It finally registered with him that Arthur was nowhere in sight. Except for one very well-shagged manservant, the king's chamber seemed silent and empty.

Merlin had to get out of bed, padding naked through the room, to convince himself that Arthur was truly gone. That he had left and was not just hiding behind a screen or under the table to suddenly spring at Merlin the unsuspecting prey, to devour him all over again.

He felt himself flushing with heat at the thought.

He would feel safer and more himself once back in his clothes, but where exactly had he put them? The memories of getting undressed were decidedly dim. All of it such a frantic blur of limbs and flailing motion.

Shouldn't there be clothes lying everywhere? Well, there weren't. Not so much as his neckerchief to cover his loins with in a pinch.

Merlin scratched his head – his scalp itched like the rest of him! What had Arthur done to his head? - and looked down at himself critically for the first time. Ooops. Oh God. He stepped over to the mirror to get a better view. Crimson love bites on his thighs and neck and collarbones, finger-shaped blue and brown marks on his hips, slight bruising on his upper arms and wrists, flecks of dried come distributed evenly on his fair skin and rubbed liberally into the dark hair on his abdomen and around his privates. His cock and nipples looked positively chafed. Oh God!

He looked and felt as thoroughly and gloriously fucked as any man in the history of Camelot and the lands beyond. Yes, a new record had been set for sure.

Which wouldn't explain the mysterious disappearance of both his king and his clothes.

He turned around again, surveying the chamber, but no clues materialized to help him solve the mystery. He'd just have to wrap himself up in...

There was a brief knock on the door. Heart in throat, Merlin frantically hurled himself in the direction of the bed and rolled across its wide expanse, landing on the far side with a painful thud. Owww! His arse did not appreciate these gymnastics right now. Hurriedly hiding in a crouch behind the majestic bed-frame, he peeked above it carefully as the door opened.

 _Oh._ It was only Arthur returning. Merlin's shoulders slumped in relief for a moment before he realized the king was leading a small army of prim and proper-looking servants, carrying stacks of some sort of cloth, towels, and – oh glory and jubilation! - many, many buckets of deliciously steaming water.

He would grovel at Arthur's feet and perform any number of erotic acts of sensuous supplication for the opportunity to take a long, hot bath, for the chance to remove the many stains and stings and aches.

The king looked his usual efficient self, his hair glowing in the morning sunlight, his red shirt unlaced and hanging loosely over his broad chest... those tight black breeches jauntily putting his assets on display.

Merlin gulped and ducked back behind the bed. He'd better stay hidden till the servants had left, at least. He knew them all – they'd never let him hear the last of this, should they discover him now, and see the state he was in. He'd be the laughing stock downstairs till his dying day, and probably be remembered in the tales of yore ever after.

For a while there was much splashing, sounds of furniture being moved, clacking of busy heels back and forth, and people moving around. They murmured between themselves as they worked, but any orders apparently had been given before they entered the room, and Merlin could not make sense of the few words he heard.

He huddled on the cold floor miserably, wriggling quietly to hide himself fully under the bed, insanely worried that Arthur would decide to have it stripped and made afresh without waiting to find out where Merlin had gone. The king was such a clueless idiot, sometimes. Though not at all clueless about how to please a man in bed, Merlin couldn't help remembering.

He felt himself flushing, again, a very pleasant heat creeping over his skin to battle the chill from the icy floor.

Luckily Arthur left his bed alone, but nevertheless it took far too long before the servants' steps led to the door, which opened and finally clicked shut. At long last there was silence again in the king's chambers.

Merlin exhaled, then sneezed. Loudly and gracelessly. There was entirely too much dust under the bed. He had to admit to himself that the king's manservant possibly had been a little lax in attending to his cleaning duties lately.

Soft steps approached as someone walked around to his side of the bed. Merlin cocked his head and peeked upwards nervously. Arthur was standing there, arms folded, eyebrows arching, a knowing grin on his wide luscious lips. On his pink and slightly swollen lips. Merlin stared.

“Oh, there you are, Merlin.” Arthur said brightly. “Lolling about under the bed now, are you? Tired at last of spending time _in_ bed? Well, much as you're apparently to be lauded for striving to take laziness to new and amazing levels, I have to say - _really_! Don't you have duties to see to, places to be?”

Merlin crawled forward and jumped to his feet in indignation. At least he tried to jump. Given his physical state it turned into more of a lopsided uncontrolled lurch. He nearly crashed forward into Arthur, but managed to stop himself just in time.

“Oh, I'd have been gone long ago, you royal prat, if you hadn't stolen all my energy and removed all my clothes and if you hadn't used me so thoroughly that I am hardly able to stand... What, are you planning to have me walk around serving you in the nude?”

Merlin's eyes flew wide as Arthur's grin turned positively wolfish with glee.

“Oh God, you're not, are you? There is a limit to what I will do for you, Arthur, and there's your limit right there. I need clothes! Let me assure you, I will never, ever, not on your life...

“Merlin,” the king said calmly enough, but not without an amount of laughter in his voice. “You're blathering. Shut. Up.”

He stepped back and gestured placatingly. “Much as I will take up your admirable suggestion of nude servitude for very careful consideration when it comes to your future duties around my chamber, I think it would be counter-productive out of doors. Really, Merlin, you're so impractical, never thinking of the consequences! You might freeze to death, or Gwaine might jump you and drag you to the stables for his personal perverted idea of a ride, and then where would I be?”

Merlin squeaked.

Arthur shrugged and pulled a grimace, managing to convey sadness, affection and mockery all at once. His glance strayed pointedly downwards over Merlin's body.

“Left high and dry is where, without as much as a half-decent, half-mast manservant of my own to use and abuse. Don't be obtuse!”

The king's eyes turned warm and his smile softened as he leaned forward to brush a thumb over Merlin's lower lip, protruding now in a prominent pout. “Come on, there's a bath waiting for you. You've lazed away half the morning, completely lost to the world. I tried to wake you, in more ways than one, but to no avail.” Arthur shook his head. “ Really, I don't know what the world's coming to when a servant can't manage one single night of proper shagging without needing rest and recuperation half the day afterwards!”

Merlin spluttered in indignation, but his longing to immerse himself in the warm bath-water won out, and he hobbled demonstratively over to get into the tub without spending an ounce more of his precious energy on the king.

He had a distinct feeling he couldn't win this argument in any case. Arthur would just have to bring up and lovingly describe one little event, any little event, from the previous night to reduce him to gibbering idiocy anyway. He knew when he'd met his match.

Some considerable time later, gloriously clean and deliciously limber, Merlin climbed back out of the tub to wrap himself in one of the huge, luxurious towels. He felt like a brand new warlock, ready to take on the whole wide world and every last little royal prat in it.

Arthur meanwhile had left him to his own devices, and now sat in a tortured position behind his desk, frowning morosely at a tall stack of parchments and chewing on his quill with a put-upon air. Paperwork and reports were his least favourite kingly duty, and it always put him in a foul mood.

Merlin padded in his direction, keeping his voice low and conciliatory so as to not rile the king further. "Arthur, where are my clothes?"

Arthur jumped from his seat as if stung by a bee, looking decidedly smug all of a sudden, and rushed to the dressing screen. “Aaaah, your clothes! They're right behind here. Ready for you to put them on. Just get to it, will you, Mer-lin!”

The king dropped down in the chair facing the screen, failing to completely hide a little grin of delight and anticipation.

Merlin looked at him suspiciously, but dutifully stepped behind the screen to eye the stack of clothes waiting for him there.

“Oi! What is this? Where are my clothes?”

“From now on, those are your clothes,” Arthur said pleasantly. “Don't let me hear complaints. Really Merlin, did you plan on always wearing that exact same outfit till you were carried to your grave as an old codger? I pay you wages, it's not like you couldn't afford to buy something new. But no. Stubborn imbecile that you are, in the end you had to make me pick out your wardrobe myself!”

“Augh! Arthur! I can't wear this! It's, it's....”

“Too good for you? Well I should certainly say so, but please don't let that stop you.”

Merlin groaned, at a loss for words. Really. He liked his old attire. It felt so comfortable, so safe and predictable, to always be sliding into the same baggy breeches, the blue well-worn tunic, the faded red neckerchief....

“Hey! Where's my neckerchief?”

“Merlin,” Arthur said with exaggerated patience. “Just put those clothes on, and come out here, and we'll talk.”

A few moments later Merlin appeared, looking disgruntled and out of sorts, but properly dressed. He wore a nice set of dark fitting breeches, a soft deep-blue tunic, and a supple and slim long leather coat. The coat's tan colour was similar to that of Merlin's old jacket, but the finish was exceedingly more elegant and of the finest craftsmanship.

Arthur nodded his smug approval, self-congratulation evident in his voice. “Merlin, you're as much my councillor these days as my servant. It reflects back on me when you look like the lone survivor from the poorest orphanage in Albion. Now you look.. ..good. Dignified. I never thought I'd see the day.” He grinned. “And I never would have seen it, had I not put in a full night's.. strenuous work first.”

Merlin's eyes narrowed in suspicion as realization dawned.

“It was a plot! A sinister, horrible, dastardly plot! To make me oversleep, exhausted and wrung out and lost to the world, so you could... so you could have your way with my clothes!”

Arthur threw his head back and laughed in cheerful abandon, sprawling in his chair and crowing with delight.

“You got me! Yes, I admit I had ulterior motives. The only way to steal those precious rags of yours away would be to pry them directly from your cold, silent corpse, unless... unless.... you were out of this world for another and happier reason. So I went with the better plan.”

The king winked and licked his lips lasciviously. “Don't worry, you'll get to make it up to me tonight.”

Merlin bit his lip and blushed, instinctively lifting his hand to his bare throat, long fingers starting to gently rub the large hickey he could feel blazing on the skin in the hollow of his throat.

«Much good it will do me being presented as your trusted advisor when everyone will have visible proof, practically branded on my skin, that really, I'm just your....”

“Favourite? Delectable love-toy? Paramour? Bed-warmer? Don't put yourself down, Merlin. You're so much _more_ than all that. You keep my armour in proper order too, don't you? And bring me my meals!”

Merlin continued rubbing the hickey, glaring accusingly.

“I don't feel dressed without my neckerchief. It's as much a part of me as...”

“... your ridiculous ears?” Arthur suggested helpfully.

Merlin glared some more, feeling the ears in question going pink with ire. He was ready to fight for his neckerchief.

His hand tensed against his pale throat, where his adam's apple was practically bobbing with annoyance. His eyes flashed challengingly. Had he but know it, he looked incredibly distracting. And tempting.

Suddenly Arthur yielded. “All right. Let's make a deal.”

With considerable panache the king pulled a large triangular piece of cloth out of his sleeve. The softest blue silk, from the look of it. “You may wear this, Merlin. It might come in handy in more than one situation. And it will look good on you, caressing your.... “

Arthur tilted his head appreciatively and motioned Merlin forward. Merlin came as instructed, all of a sudden diverted from composing a properly cheeky comment in return. That really was a mesmerizing shade of glorious blue. Just the colour of Arthur's eyes.

The king rose to tie the silk around Merlin's neck, leaning in for a surprisingly chaste and tender kiss once he'd carefully adjusted the cloth to his satisfaction.

“There's only one condition, Merlin: You may only wear it when there's some particular mark on your skin, something underneath that you need to hide in public.”

“Sire!” Merlin cried.

“That's right, master councillor. No hickey, no love-bite, no neckerchief. Do we have a deal?”

Merlin bit his lip and grumbled and glared some more. But in the end there could be only one reply, and he reached up to feel the soft blue silk gloomily.

“We have a deal, Sire. Knowing you, I'll probably get to wear the thing nearly every day of the week, anyway.”

“ _Every single day_ would be closer to the mark,” Arthur said breezily.


End file.
